Harry Gets Therapy
by Woe is Me
Summary: Yep! Everybody's favorite fictional character gets depressed when its time to go back to the Dursleys and he sees a Muggle psychiatrist. --CH 2 IS UP--
1. The Pillow Predicament

_Everybody's favorite character starts getting depressed, and then is seen by a Muggle psychiatrist._

**Harry Potter Gets Therapy**

Harry was lying in his bed and it was late at night. It was hot in the dormitory, the June heat had already begun.

Harry sighed, and rolled over, his head on the soft pillow.

Summer was soon approaching. Another whole three months of living in a closet, being screamed at by angry red fat Brits. He hated the Dursleys.

Harry shrieked of anger in his head. He punched his pillow several times until it looked like a deformed chocolate donut hole. Harry thought the pillow reminded him of Dudley's head, and at this he jabbed more and more into the poor innocent pillow.

Harry was exhausted from his fistfight with the pillow and had no more energy or anger. He flattened the pillow and pulled out the wrinkles. Harry collapsed on the pillow. A chilly breeze blew in through the cracked window. Harry sat up and pulled up the thin cover close to him.

While Harry was doing this, the pillow thought to itself, _'So now he wants to sleep on me after basically killing me? I don't think so, buddy!'_ The pillow rolled off the bed and hid under it.

Harry fell back down onto the bed, only for his head to be hit against the hard springy old mattress. He rolled part of his bed sheet into a ball and rested his head against it.

Never had Harry been so miserable. _'The Dursleys, the Dursleys,'_ was all he could think off. It echoed in his head so many times it seemed like "Dursley" wasn't a word anymore.

Harry was tired, but he just couldn't fall to sleep knowing in only a matter of days he'd be back in the old closet, with no one to talk to except Hedwig and the termites that were eating the wooden planks of the closet floor.

Harry buried his face into his hands and sobbed until his sheets were wet with tears. Slowly, he cried himself to sleep.


	2. Harry's Strange Fit

**A/N:** Look this was certainly NOT supposed to be a Drama/Angst fic!!! So, to prove that point, I shall make this chapter even funnier than the last.

And the anonymous reviewer who flamed me: You stink. And get a life.

In fact, I have used your flame to barbeque hot dogs.

And I think the pillow thing is very funny, thank you very much!

* * *

It was the next morning. It was already 9 in the morning.

Hermione tried shaking Harry awake.

Ron, Seamus, and Neville were in the room, and still sleeping and snoring.

Ron got up from his bed and rubbed his eyes, muttering, "What'd I miss?"

Then he noticed Hermione was in the boy's dormitory.

Then Hermione noticed Ron was completely naked.

Both shrieked. Ron grabbed his underwear and quickly yanked them on. Hermione shielded her eyes, but no matter how hard she tried, she just had to take a peek...

At the sound of the screams, Seamus and Neville had woken up.

Seamus sprung up from his bed, also in his Birthday Suit.

Hermione screeched again.

"Seamus, it's...it's HUGE!" Hermione cried pointing to his...oh you know.

"It's not my fault! And why are you in here, you ugly girl!" Seamus squeaked.

He grabbed the glass of water on his bedside table and flung it at Hermione.

The water splashed on Hermione, and she slowly sunk to the ground, screaming, "I'm melting...I'm melting...ohhhh...."

Hermione had roots with the Wicked Witch of the West, you see.

So Hermione died.

Neville, the only one wearing something, was sent to take Hermione down to Madame Pomfrey. He was quite shaken by the whole thing.

Harry had slowly woken up amidst the whole naked confusion.

"Harry, quickly, come down to the Great Hall for breakfast!" Ron said, throwing on his robes quickly.

"Yeah, they'll run out of fried crocodile and cat butt sausages!" Seamus said, changing.

"I'm not going!" Harry sobbed, burying his face into his hands.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm depressed and sad and lonely. Nobody loves me!" Harry cried, tears running down his face.

"Why?"

"I don't know. Bring me a muffin or something! And send Professor McGonagall here...I need to see my love to give me strength!"

"Excuse me?"

"Just perform my requests!" Harry cried in anguish, falling onto his pillow.

Soon, Professor McGonagall was in the room.

"Mr. Potter, what is the meaning of all this?" she demanded strictly.

"Ah, Minerva, how I love you, I have often dreamed of the taste of your lips...but that stupid Dumbledore keeps stealing you away from me! Minerva, come closer..." Harry said romantically, arms outstretched toward the much older lady.

"Mr. Potter! There is something seriously scary going on here! Voldemort must be behind this...has your scar been hurting nowadays, Potter?"

"Minerva, darling, my scar is fine, I only need you, let us elope on the beach in Nantucket..." Harry said, blowing kisses to the teacher.

"Mr. Potter, you hush up this moment! This is an emergency, but I think I know what to do..." Professor McGonagall left the room with a swish.

Harry started humming Frank Sinatra tunes idly, while drawing teardrops with a blue crayon on a little notepad.

Just then Parvati and Lavender entered the room together, giggling.

"What are YOU doing here? I want my Minerva back! And a Fudgesicle!" Harry demanded.

"We've heard you've gone mental, Harry!" Lavender giggled.

"Yeah! Completely off the top!" Parvati chuckled, and the girls broke out in fits of laughter.

"No, I most certainly am not mental! Just a little sad..." at this Harry started sobbing, his face red, tears streaming into the bed.

Parvati and Lavender, worried, ran up to him.

"Harry, what's the matter?" they asked curiously.

"Oh, the Dursleys! I hate them! The agony..." Harry moaned in grief.

"Oh, poor Harry! Can we do anything?" Parvati asked.

Harry nodded slowly.

"Yes?" Lavender asked.

"Send me an orange Care Bear on the double. And a snickerdoodle cookie too!"


End file.
